


Importance of Pillow Talk

by FeeFido



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeeFido/pseuds/FeeFido
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wasn’t expecting for you to be this cuddly, Freckles."</p>
<p>"And I wasn’t expecting for you to be this talkative."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Importance of Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Something that I wrote a while ago as an un-beta'd fill for a dialogue prompt at the askhulkeye tumblr blog. I had posted it to my personal tumblr but I've decided to cross post it here as well, for the sake of archiving purposes. (:

“I wasn’t expecting for you to be this cuddly, Freckles.”

"And I wasn't expecting for you to be this talkative."

Clint tilted his head down to bury a small smile in the veritable thicket of dark curls beneath his chin, his chest shaking the slightest bit with repressed chuckles as his arms tightened around the lean body draped over top of his own, like a human blanket, leaving him without need for the sheets kicked down at the bottom of the bed. Bruce didn't even open an eye, too worn out to even try feigning consciousness as he was dragged up a little closer, to where other man's breath played just above his ear. Clint couldn't decide whether or not he should be smug over the fact that the scientist's rather boneless state was his own doing, or swoon because it was all too endearingly adorable. In the end though, it was a bit of both.

"What can I say," the archer sighed out, his breath distrupting the unruly hair still pillowed under his face, "I enjoy my fair share of post-coitus banter."

Bruce huffed, his gruff voice barely audible against the warm skin of Clint's chest. "Too tired to talk. Sleep."

Smirking, Clint lightly ran his knuckles down the man's back, feeling goosebumps erupt across the smooth skin like a rapid spreading fire. "I'll take that as a compliment." And the smugness from earlier reflected clearly in his voice.

But Bruce either didn't have the energy to answer, or he simply choose not to acknowledge the statement. Clint knew he had been heard though; he could feel the small grin and lazy kiss being pressed to the still sweaty skin over his passively beating heart. Like it had been a silent prompt to carry on, Clint continued to stroke his hand up and down Bruce's spine, taking several minutes to just silently map out the plane of Bruce's skin through the tips of his fingers, memorizing every subtle change he could find, from the familiar feel of goosebumps, to the slight curve at his hips, and the small dip in his lower back, until it was all but an absent motion of his hand.

"You don't have to–but can I still talk?" Clint hadn't been lying when he said he enjoyed his pillow talk; at times, it even felt like a necessity, especially now, especially with him. "Bruce?"

The warmth of Bruce's level breathing fanned across his skin, his back rising and falling with each steady in and exhale, but there was no response. Sighing, Clint frowned into the top of his head and tried to gather his thoughts. There were a million different things going through his mind at once, each one wanting to be voiced and keeping him awake when he should be passed out sleeping like Bruce, but the archer's habitual need to _speak_ and _praise_ and _reassure_ were a stronger need by far than the one to sleep.

He breathed in the lingering scent in Bruce's hair and sighed again.

Quickly, with almost urgency, he brought the millions of thoughts in his head down to as few words as possible; few words, but holding now a much larger meaning. He spoke them timidly into the top of Bruce's hair with a murmured voice, holding him just a little tighter, pressing a barely there kiss above his brow, before saying them again. Then again a few moments later, still feeling the way the words rolled off his tongue without any hesitance or uncertainty, unsure with himself if it was either by a reckless foolishness he was able to do so, or a deep sincerity that even he didn't know himself to have. Again, it turned out to be a bit of both.

"If you're hearing any of this Freckles," Clint concluded, his voice still a low whisper against Bruce's head, "remind me in the morning to tell you all this again."

His head fell back against the pillows then, and allowed sleep to come, his hand never once stopping it's calming pattern of up and down until he was too far gone to keep it up.

In the morning, waking up curled into Bruce's side, his head on his shoulder and nose pressed into the crook of his neck, having never really removed himself from their entanglement through the duration of their sleep, he heard Bruce mumble into his ear.

"Hey Clint, you awake?"

As a hand combed through the hair on the back of his head, he cracked an eye open against the muted morning light streaming in through the window blinds. From his position, he couldn't see Bruce's face, but he knew Bruce could see him; even more, he could feel his eyes on him like a second hand touching his arm, or petting down his back much like he'd been doing the night before. It was comforting, having someone this close to him and not having to worry, to be able to put his guard down and relax.

It was too early in the morning to prepare a snarky remark, so he closed his eye again and hummed, pushing in closer to his new favorite source of heat. With an arm thrown haphazardly across the scientist's body, he could feel Bruce's chuckle from deep in his chest, and he smiled in turn. Clint wished he could wake up like this every morning, carefree and lazy, like he could stay in this bed all day. He was tempted to do just that. Or until someone came with direct orders from SHIELD, at least. Then he wouldn't really have any a say in the matter.

Just as he was about to fall back into a shallow sleep, Bruce started to shift around by his side. He grumbled, trying to tell Bruce without words to stop moving, but then there was a true hand on his arm, gripping gently, and pulling him awake again. 

"Clint?" Bruce shook his arm a little more.

"Hmm..."

"I was awake last night, you know. I heard you." Clint stiffened. He hadn't planned on that. He'd thought Bruce had been asleep, but obviously there had been a lapse in judgement on his part.

But Bruce couldn't honestly expect him to be able to repeat any of that, he knew he couldn't. Clint wasn't _able_ to.

"I..."

"Shh, it's okay..." Bruce's hand dropped to the back of his neck to pull him up off his shoulder, moving in closer so that he could kiss at the worry lines sketched across the archer's forehead. "I love you, too."

Clint breathed out. Like a wave of relief had came over him, his body loosened and his shoulders fell slack, relaxed once more as Bruce leaned above him to kiss him properly on his lips. "Thank you." He mumbled and kissed him back, feeling like a mess, but perfect all the same just lying there in bed with nothing else needing to be said.


End file.
